Confession of Faith
by aznJEDI13
Summary: Felix is dead, or is he? Izzy has moved on and married since his untimely death, but only fate could bring them back together.


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Notes: When I was in the sixth and seventh grade I wrote this. I don't feel like going back and rewriting it so please excuse the wrong timeline, the lame approach, the bad format, and the unusual writing style. This is merely the work of a real amateur and definitely, by far, not by best work. I never completed this story, but if I feel compelled to, I will. 

Disclaimer: As of November 24, 2001. I own the story line and thus hold the right to remove this story if I ever feel an infraction of the disclaimer has been committed. I know that sounds like legal jargon and such especially for a fan fiction website, but I have already had my story line plagiarized. Kevin Sullivan owns the characters, the town, the timeline and everything. I own nothing but the story line and a few new additions to Avonlea.

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Confession of Faith

Avonlea 1918

By aznJEDI13

Staring out the window, in 1918, the sun glistened on her smooth face. The long hours she had spent longing for his return had finally come to waste, the long days she spent praying for a man had paid off. Now she had him, her soul mate, and Felix, he was dead. Devastation and joy filled her all at once. But the man of her dreams had promised to never leave, unlike Felix, Felix had promised to return; he had broken his promise. Turning from the window she leaned against her bed, taking one long look at a picture of a tall dark handsome boy, Izzy Pettibone took the frame away and put in under her bed; replacing the picture with one of a tall brown hair doctor, her soul mate. Taking one step from the bed for the first time after looking into Felix's eyes she didn't cry. A strange knock hit the door; she quickly grabbed for the doorknob, who could it be? Opening the door, it wasn't anyone she expected the figure nodded speaking in a shyness language. Not taking any time she picked up her coat and left leaving the figure alone in the bare hallway.

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There he stood five foot nine, a hundred and fifty-three pounds with a large black medicine bag in is right hand, having no choice, but to dump it on the floor he did when he saw her. She walked up and looked into his dark green eyes, "About time?" he questioned, "Sleep to late?"

"Yes, I suppose,"

"Something wrong?"

"Nothing, you should worry about."

"I'm going to be your husband; don't you think you should tell me?"

"Not really; don't you want mystery in a marriage?"

"You're not humoring me, Izzy,"

"Oh, Jamie, it's nothing you should worry about; the wars almost over and we'll be married."

"That's what I must speak to you about, you see, Dr. Conwell is serving in the red cross camp and he needs some help; with the triage and the repair of soldiers; I told him I'd come and help out. Izzy, I'm going whether or not _you_ approve."

"Then go…"

"What?"

"Leave so I can spend some days with Cecily."

"Suit yourself, Izzy Pettibone; good bye." He leaned forward and kissed her before pitching back up on his buggy and leaving smoothly. She continued on her way to the King house, where she would meet her best friend Cecily King and than they would go to Halifax, to see her parents. But she had grown up, both of them had, no longer did they nonchalantly play around like genial little women, but where women themselves, grown women. Izzy worked at the hospital in Charlottetown, she had met Jamie there and Cecily worked at the Avonlea telegraph office after Sally Potts left for Charlottetown.

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Dead; was the first single word that had come to his mind, dead; he was must have been dead. He picked up his body and listen to the young man, besides him, words. The news had spread that all hands were lost in the wreck, he shook his head and thoughts of his family and friends surfaced, no he wasn't going to let them interfere, it was his chance to start a new life, to began again. The young man said something that snapped Felix King back to reality; he was the only survivor out of two hundred and fifty men. Now, He was burdened; how could he have survived? There was no way he was going back to Avonlea; it would only haunt him more.

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She trembled once more at the news ask the telegraph officer could only show his sympathy. Her once joyous had settled into a dark alliance of fear for the thought that her own lover could be dead. The French telegraph officer spoke and she could only nod before heading to her room to pack. "Ms. Stanley, whatever is the matter?"

"Oh, Helen, I must go to Canada to comfort my family over the lost of my cousin."

"Shall, I take leave on my own?"

"Please do." Panic etched all over the English major's face. Felix. No. She had a well-worn worry that had often scared her young face in the years she had lived. She felt so impotent. Her cousin was dead. Dead. All she could think about was Felix was dead.

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Slowly the train pulled up and the muscle bound figure was the first to get off in a unfamiliar town, he picked up the phone, "Hello, I'd like to reserve a sweet…F-Damon Collins, yes…$300? Is there anything for $150? Yeah, I'll take that one." He hung up the phone, then took one look around, this was his home, he was free, free of all his burdens, of all his life, here he would be respected.

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Could she be marrying any other respected man in the providence? Dr. Jamie Speckes was known all over the world. The thirty-year-old doctor was nine years older then her and hadn't really ever served in the war. He had told her the plans of the wedding, the day before he left. He had told her the trip through North America they were taking. He had told her of his first two marriages. He had told her he would love her, but it was not only because he did love her and he wanted her.

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Kneeling down he stared into the deep blue sky. The complexion was over his blushing face; he walked over to the business hotel and explained his characteristics. Damon Collins' world was about to change; he would be someone.

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Three Years Later

Janet King has never forgotten the old town, but is retracing on the present as she sits and thinks of what has changed, "The people have changed; twenty-two-year-old Wiley Lester has left the town, Davy Keith is engaged to his sister, Becky. Cecily, is being courted by a young American engineer, Jim Davis, Daniel, fifteen now, works at the hotel, and is very close to taking the position his brother once held. Izzy and Jamie Speckes haven't really had any time to start a family. Izzy, is an important women, she spends her weekends in Montreal or Halifax, the weekdays on Prince Edwards Island. She became a teacher, and is often busy, while Dr. Specks continues to work on medicine. Though, they are trying to adopt a young boy. They are often away from each other, though you know their love is deep. Felicity and Gus Pike, have three kids, Felix, named after my late son, Collin, and Alexander. Sally Potts has married a rich banker, Henery McCrae, the younger brother of the late Stuart McCrae. Seth and Mavis Pritchard have five sons and a daughter; their only daughter is Colleen's child. They have also adopted several other children. Velma Bugle has a terrible crush on Elbert Wertz. Elbert, twenty-four, is courting a young mistress as he jumps from Avonlea to Boston, through out the year. He still keeps in touch, with Sara's old beau, the late Booth Elliot's family. Unfortunately Booth and also my dear son Felix died in the war along with Donny and Nat Lester who gave their lives to save their superior. Sara has returned home and has help Aunt Hetty after her stroke. Sara, herself, has become a beautiful and fascinating girl who has a marvelous talent to write. Just recently the same school in which Morgan Pettibone teaches at has asked her to be a creative writing instructor. Meanwhile, Olivia and Jasper continue to raise their children in the English world. Simon Treymane had never been the same since that year he lost almost all his business and threatened to kill himself. Muriel and Clive Pettibone, left the town after Izzy got married, in fact they decided to see the world while they still can. His son Arthur, is becoming a deep interest of Sara Stanley, after she called off her engagement to her late fiancé, Mark Keen. Morgan is an art teacher in Halifax and for some reason still keeps in touch with Sara. Yet still I wonder what has happened to my beloved son. Is he really dead? I can only wonder, yet my wondering could be put at peace if only I had saw his body."

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Three years can do a lot for a man, Damon Collins had never been the same since that day he had applied for a job at the finest hotel in all of New York. He now owned three different building through out the state, now he had everything in his life straight, there was no way his past could interfere. He had changed his hair; it wasn't shagging flat on his head. It was back to a parted cut with long bangs. He looked over at his business; it had been his dream, to own a hotel. Solemnly, he would sometimes think back to those days. Roaming through the hills, prowling through the forest. Making a fool over a girl or a midnight kiss from with your girlfriend. He had to admit he missed those days, the warm sun always shining unless the snow was upon the city. In the summer and spring, baseballs flew everywhere; boys teased girls, as gentleman took woman out. School had ended, now people walked in the fields, playing tag or holding hands. Then in the winter the walkway poured with white snow, boys playing hockey, snowball fights everywhere. Maybe the couples were on a sleigh rides. The houses were all warm and comfy. There was always someone there, someone to talk with, someone to share your joys with, someone even to kiss. Sometimes he'd give anything to go back to that time. But sometimes the pass just runs into the present and collides with the future.

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She laughed sarcastically as if overly impressed by the gorging man in front of her, "Don't stuff yourself, Morgan Pettibone!" Her brother sardonically munched on another biscuit. Hmmm. He made a sound of pure enjoyment of the White Sands hotel's food. He smirked, pensively, then he quivered soberly, "You ever think of Felix still?" Mrs. Speckes shivered inside peeved, but ideally showed no consideration for the dead worthy. "Not particularly, why?" Morgan took another bit of the biscuit, "Donny Lester says he saw Felix at some hotel in Cleveland." Izzy chuckled, and sarcastically let out a loud holler, with Morgan she could be free, "Impossible." Morgan sat back up straight from where he had mistakenly leaned his chair back, "That's what I said," he sighed, the gleam from his eyes disappeared, "Wouldn't that be somthin'? It'd be like Gus Pike comin' back from the dead all over again. Felix Kin' alive."

"Bite your tongue, Morgan. Don't say that name, it brings back so many memories." Izzy had a rendition of the reverie she had had before as she lay in bed. She had never allowed anyone to know it though. "Aw come on Izzy, memories are the only things we have of the… of the ones that have passed on before us." Izzy sighed, remembering the Mcgwire Boys, bless their souls, rest in peace.

"Suppose that was really him, what do you think I'd do…I'm married."

"Yeah, but its not like you're a nun of anythin'." She threw her napkin at him from across the table, "Curse your thoughts, Morgan Pettibone." He laughed bluntly, his sister full of disquietude. "Aw come on Iz, are you and Johnny-boy goin' to Cleveland soon anyway?" She threw him a discontented look of desperation and then exaggeration, "So…I don't hope to run into this fantasy look alike."

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She heaved the last piece of luggage into the closet, she felt his hands go to her waist. Solemnly she sighed, then turned to face the doctor, "Oh, Jamie, don't you want a son?" But instead of his usual answer he shrugged, it wasn't like him. He hadn't been himself lately. "What's wrong? Why have you been so moody lately?" He released her relentless and pensive he sat on the bed, peeved she sat next to him. It was like facing Felix on the beach not too long ago, about five years ago. Seemingly tears watered her eyes, but she desperate not to let him see. "Jamie?" He took her hands in his, they had been married for two years; she knew his moods and he was never so sober. "I have this rational feeling, these pensive dreams that my fate is near, my love." She sank her eyes deep into his scornful eyes, though she was so tight, her heart felt like it was going to explode. "Shh… Jamie…don't talk like that." She took him in her arms like a scared boy, too frightened to move. She felt his skin; it was ice. As she rocked him in her arms all she could think about was Felix. She couldn't think of Jamie for some odd reason, but Felix. What had it been for him, to be in the war, for when he knew his fate was coming there was no one to comfort him?

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Just enough, he had just enough. Odd Calvinistic characters reappearing in his nonchalantly genial new life. He has often thought about returning, but never was there a point when he had gone through with his stealthily plan, never let it unravel to an age of great decency, never. He had just managed to shoo away a desperate figure that had reminiscent from his fatigue past. Donny; Donny and Hannah. Who would have thought? The scene replayed in his diffident mind, Donny, that bastard, had burst into his office, Hannah on his heels. Donny's wavy brown hair had shagged over his eyes; it had taken him, Felix King, a long time to realize who he was. But Damon Collins hadn't recognized the discontent man, who had once been an indolent boy. Peeved now all he could do was reverie of what Avonlea was like, in the past and in the future. He was living the present. A present worth living. Donny had given him a rakish behavior that had sent Hannah off the wall. She reminded him all to well of Izzy. Oh, sweet Izzy. Now was not a time for thoughts of past love. Donny had demanded the truth, was he or was he not Felix King? A wide-eyed, ambitious young man who had left for the navy? Or truly Damon Collins a dark, solemn person with a sober clarity and peaceful, yet harsh tone voice? Ideally he was neither, yet sobriety had allowed him to have a certain reprimanded mind of which he really was. He was truly neither. But as his mind lay dwelling on the thoughts of his past, important papers lay empty on his desk, papers that could solve the mystery of his life.

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"I'm sorry, ma'am, you can't go in there." Harsh tone filled her vibrant red ears. She was in no sober mood for this kind of ruckus. "And why can't I?" blasphemy, she could hear it ringing through the ears of the person across from her, "Mr. Collins doesn't except people without a appointment." Furious she stopped mid-stride, only a couple feet from the hotel owner's financial office. She was waiting for the vibe to not go into the room, but some odd sensation told her to go for it. It was a binding electrified force, it was saying go, go, go! "Ma'am, I'm afraid you'll have to leave-" she reached for the door and it burst open, it wasn't locked.

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"I told you, Shirley, I can't talk right now." It was strangely a familiar voice, but she brushed away the sound that mellowed in her ears, Felix's deep voice. But this voice wasn't as timid, the clarification was more resounding, the inner soul of it was more intact. "Mr. Collins, we need to talk…" her voiced trailed off as he glanced up at her nonchalantly, "Felix?" Her voice came out horse; it was timid raspy whisper. But the man kept his face down; she couldn't see it…

The End.

If you would like me to continue please let me know.


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